


Wish I Was Here

by Morgan_Inkeye



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Dreams, Hurt with no Comfort, Loneliness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 17:14:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17084420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgan_Inkeye/pseuds/Morgan_Inkeye
Summary: The smallest details can recall of much. A symbol, a token of the past - not to forget.





	Wish I Was Here

**Author's Note:**

> No specific warnings ; just sadness. Enjoy! :)

     There was a contrasting element, on the deep red beddings. On one of the multiple pillows of rich silk, embroided with gold where Mairon rested his head. He laid with eyes open, gazing at his own hair spilt as rivers of ink all about himself.   
Such a dark shade did not suit him at all. He knew it made him appear strict, cold, threatening. It hardened his features, made his subtly-drawn lips look pursed, his cheekbones sharp, his brow always frowning. It was nothing different than what Mairon really was, beneath the surface. It just did not match how he desired to appear.   
  


He favoured a fairer, deceiving seeming. A sublime yet viscious one, candid smiles concealing great darkness. He enjoyed disguising evil with beauty, and this old trick had fooled all those who had believed, even for the shortest moment, that Mairon was maybe not rotten to the core. His smiles and suggestive looks draped in lies his black-tainted heart, and by trusting him his foolish preys willingly bent their heads back, exposing their soft throats to the sharp, merciless slash of Mairon's seduction.   
  


All of this was far less easy, with this stark appearance he wore now. It was just hair – something so trivial. And yet he felt as though this choice was not which of his reason, but of his heart. The tiny little portion of it that still knew how to feel, that would always be untouched. This shard of his previous self that long, so long ago had been caressed by love.   
  


''Master'', he whispered in a sigh, caressing his own hair with delicacy.   
  


As he was now, on his side, it was almost as though these strands were not his own. And for a moment, he allowed himself to believe it. He indulged himself a moment of rememberance, and for an instant he lost himself in past times.   
  


He could almost feel comforting arms wrapped around him from behind, and a slow, deep breathing gently tickling his nape. The embrace of these cold, yet beloved arms was what his heart missed so desperately. But only in dreams could he find them again.   
  


Find _him_ again.   
  


''Melkor,'' he murmured, halfway towards slumber.   
  


The embrace tightened around him, and he felt his Master's body pressing against his own. Melkor was always so cold. He never gave off any warmth, so he had learnt to seek it out. He would silently ask for it, and with tender possessiveness he would encircle Mairon's waist, and hold him tightly as they slept. And always would he let out a little sigh as this warmth seeped into him, chasing away this cold coil around his soul.   
  


Mairon was the one to sigh now, briefly returning to consciousness. His own warmth had been stolen, but not by his Lord's loving arms. It had been wrenched from him at the same moment Melkor had been cast away, thrown in the frozen Void, where neither light nor warmth could ever reach him again.   
And Mairon had let the Void grow within himself, in the form of a deep, dark chasm where nothing could live. A rift hungry for Time, for the memories that once brought him such peace and joy. The abyss of tears had drowned them all.   
Mairon perpetually stood on the edge of this cliff ; oscillating between stability and this irrestible, terrifying desire to fall. Yet he feared this descent, so as a greedy dragon, he would take and protect all that could hold him back from this great leap. Even if it were tricks he played on himself, deceiving his own eyes with illusions that called back images of _him_. His Master. He had become his own favourite victim to play tricks upon. And this betrayal felt sweet, yet bitter, just as his Lord's company used to be.   
  


''Precious,'' he whispered to himself. When his voice fell in the lowest tones of murmur, it almost sounded as Melkor's.   
  


He closed his eyes again, in an attempt to embrace one more peaceful glimpse of the past. And it was not long to reach him.   
  


He felt ghost lips on his cheek, and turned around, smiling broadly as he was met with his Master's sight.   
Melkor's own smiles were rare, and felt bleak. It was rare he smiled honestly. Yet now he was, his grey lips stretching just slightly, his dark eyes narrowing. Their inner flame shone bright, so bright upon the nightsky of his globes, these two obsidian jewels of fathomless depths.   
He pulled Mairon in his arms, holding him with gentleness, cradling him as by fear of breaking him.  
  


''Are we still in a dream ?'' Mairon asked in a sigh, relieved to feel the tender caress of his Master, soothing his heartache.   
  


_A beautiful one, my Dear._   
  


Mairon's throat tightened and he huddled closer, as close to Melkor as he could. He had lived eons by his Master's side, and he had known despair, pain, fury – love.   
Melkor's heart was a fortress, and even though Mairon had been welcomed inside, there still were traps and locked doors Melkor would never remove. But he had accepted it. All he wanted was to be with him, and ensure him harm did not come from inside.

  
He loved a dark God, doomed by his own kin to know nothing but hatred and unrest. How could their story have been a blissful idyll ? It could not. It was never meant to be.   
But Melkor had loved him, in his own way. An utter reversal of what _love_ should mean to those who dwelt in light, and purity. Yet no matter how sad, how wretched their story was, they had both cherished it until the end.   
  


_And beyond,_ Mairon thought.   
  


Melkor held him tighter. His charred hands were gentle, soft-touched despite their seeming. Mairon had learnt how to love their peculiar caress. They embodied so well the reality of their bearer. A gentle heart coated in harsh darkness, whose attempts to show delicacy left only bruises. But one just needed to look beyond. And Mairon had been the only one to dare.   
  


_I long for you,_ Melkor said low. _The Void taught me the reality of cold._  
  


Mairon looked up at him – his smile had faded. Melkor's face was back to its usual expression – sad, a ghost of despair across it, eyes dim and glistening. If all saw Melkor as being always on the brink of an outburst of rage, Mairon saw it all differently. He only saw tears about to be shed, a long repressed cry choked in a tight throat. It was more than mere melancholy. It was sheer, and silent grief.   
  


''I wish to be with you,'' Mairon said, caressing his Lord's cheek. ''It is all I desire, ever since you went away.''  
  


_How selfish would this be of me, to drag you within the Void and sentence you to eternal cold._ He paused, detailing his Maia's eyes. He missed their fire, perhaps more than he missed fire's warmth itself. _I have kept enough treasures in my existence. I will not imprison my most precious jewel.  
_

''The shine of this jewel has dimmed. It wishes for nothing, but to be back to its owner.''  
  


Mairon stole him a slow, chaste kiss. He could see how his Master endeavoured to keep him away from this doom. Yet even if Mairon had the opportunity to drift away from him, he never would. It would mean forsaking all he had ever fought for, all he had ever loved.   
  


''I promised never to leave you alone,'' Mairon murmured. ''Whatever be the cost, I swore never to abandon you.''  
  


Melkor stared silently.  
  


''Long ago, you were taken away from me.'' He said as he traced the ragged, cruel scars Angainor had left in his Master's flesh. Around his wrist, up to his shoulder, around his throat. ''I swore to you and to myself, that I would never allow such horror again. And if I could not prevent it, I would thrive to deliver you.''  
  


Melkor nodded, shivering at his Maia's touch. These scars, more than any others, were sensitive.  
  


''I shall share your prison and chains,'' Mairon resumed, ''And I will go through all tortures and torment by your side, if it cannot be otherwise. All I want is to be with you.''  
  


His Master sighed, pulling him into a tight embrace, as to silence him.   
  


_Will all I love perish by my fault ?_ He said after a moment. _Why did you fail to see we were doomed ?_  
  


''I did not,'' Mairon chuckled. ''I just did not care. Melkor,'' he said, slightly pulling back to look at him. He cupped his face, their foreheads touching. ''You are my King, my God. How could this love be other than doomed ?''  
  


_Your faith in me is desperate, fated to ruin. What pleasure or beauty is there in it ?_   
  


Mairon knew he was trying to dissuade him, to keep him away from the freezing darkness of the Void. But he was no fool – or perhaps was he, as he would walk this path of sorrow until the end, and eventually fall down to where all vanishes, disappearing in black mists.   
_With him._   
He did not answer his lover. He simply curled up in his arms once more, enjoying this moment that would soon fade. It was already starting.

  
  


     His eyes opened upon long, ink-black rivers running on the rich crimson silks, embroided with gold. And his vision clouded, all colours falling to sorrowful stains.   
He was so cold.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it. Please, let me know what you thought! Always a pleasure to read your feedback.   
> Much love <3


End file.
